


what a mistake it would be to throw it away

by CheseraFifthe



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Class Swap AU (Mostly), Gen, It's A Wonderful Life AU, Technically Complete...Technically, Yasha is still the Barbarian Babe of Our Hearts, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 20:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16562708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheseraFifthe/pseuds/CheseraFifthe
Summary: Caleb wakes up years before he ever heard of the Soltryce Academy; the efforts of a dedicated Archmage devoted to changing the fabric of time a success.ThisCaleb has no intentions of being under the thumb of Trent Ikathon and happily Refuses the Call.Naturally this fucks everything up.





	what a mistake it would be to throw it away

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again with another CritRole fic, kinda sitting there since episode 26, in which I went 'Welp!' and held off to see where things went. That said, what I have could make either a good Part 1, or a decent stopping point if I get no motivation to continue. So enjoy!

Caleb will never regret following through with his goals. Going back. Saving his parents. That being said, he realizes in the in between years that he loves his parents even when they're a little disappointed that their bright son rejected wizard school. That was his best prospects to be great one day after all, and, and he threw it away for his own fears of imagined failure. _“Caleb, liebling, I did not think you would be well suited for farming. Blumenthal could only hold you back, my bright boy.” “You really should take this once-in-a-lifetime chance. You will find yourself doing well once you get over your fears.”_

Repeat _unendlich_.

He loves his parents enough to rent reality for them, but that idealized notion he carried of them in his darkest moments is worn down by their somewhat limited worldview.

It’s no fault of their own. He has fought assassins and monstrosities, he has crossed planes and met with gods. He has seen wondrous, miraculous things and convinced people of miracles himself. Simple farm-work after that seems rather lacklustre by comparison but it is the only option they see for him if he does not take the chance presented. They are alive to be disappointed and that is what matters to him.

 

And if he misses the people who saw and accepted and loved him at his most monstrous? Who trusted him, fought with him and kept him, a metaphorical sack of garbage, alive? If he missed his cat?

 

Well that is the price to pay for redemption.

 

* * *

 

When he left his childhood home, years later than he had last time, his father bid him safe travels. “Write home when you can. Oh, and watch out for the goblins!”

Caleb waved and gave a wordless agreement.

 

It was only an hour later that he realized his father meant for him to avoid goblins in general rather than seek a specific one out.

 

* * *

 

Now that he knew what to look for, reality had never been so easy to change. Just a little lilting murmur, everything lining up just so, and he went on with his day.

It was odd; going from rote memorization, sometimes beaten into him until he literally couldn't fuck it up, to effectively telling the universe: _There are four small lights in this room. They have always been here and they will remain here until I say otherwise._ And have his word be law.

Changing reality that first time must have taken some of his wits because it took him picking up something like Nott’s hand crossbow for the first time in his nerdy existence (and roughly five years in between) for him to notice what other people could probably pick out about him in five minutes.

He was a bard, this time around. An atypical one by all accounts as even now he hated attention, no matter how good he was at making people like him. Thankfully though, bards were never questioned or harassed for wandering Wildemount; never expected to do anything except have a good story at hand. It was just really strange, like performing a con all the time.

He finally got at least a little of what Nott meant, not fitting into her own skin.

 

* * *

 

Caleb missed the Mighty Nein like one would miss their vital organs but he would be lying if he said he sought them out.

Maybe it was that it would be at least a decade before they met in Trostenwald in optimal circumstances, before two of their number were even alive. Maybe it was the realization that they would never know what they meant to him, because his decision wiped these experiences from memory and reality. Maybe he was delaying the revelation that they only appreciated him because of his breadth of magic skills and he no longer was, nor could he ever be a wizard again.

They wouldn't be the same, not even a facsimile of who they were when they first met. Fjord was at sea somewhere perfectly content. Yasha was who knows where in Xhorhas. Beau was, what? Nine? Nott wasn't physically in the world, and Mollymauk wasn't mentally in the world, regardless of how old his body physically was.

Of the remaining members Caduceus was in the corrupted Savalierwood, too dangerous to approach when he resided just outside of Shady Creek Run. Leaving Jester as the safest option. Jester, so very young; well outside the Empire and kept hidden from the world by her wealthy, famous mother. What was he going to do, introduce himself to Marion Lavorre as her daughter’s time-traveling friend who has not yet met her in this life? No matter how Jester would be glad to make a new friend, she would never forgive him if he even appeared to threaten her mother.

Meeting Jester was not going to happen anytime soon, as much as he would like to. He hoped she was doing well.

 

He hoped they all were doing well.

 

* * *

 

Caleb came to the Nestled Nook Inn, alone, and though he didn't look it, he worried. There was no goblin on record in that podunk jail he, ah, _convinced_ them to show him.

The only thing he could say for sure of her location was that she was probably somewhere on the continent given her dislike of large bodies of water. She was certainly sneaky enough that she could walk past him right now and he would only know it when his pockets were cleared of anything shiny.

Caleb walked over to a chair in the corner of the inn, anticipation curling in his stomach, a faint smile on his face. He drifted off, content to strum as he went over what to say to his friends lest he appear as an all-knowing freak. And as the hours went by, there was no human monk, no half-orc, no cleric tiefling. No “halfling” drowning herself in alcohol. No silver and copper hitting a table, no sudden wind that opens all the windows. Did he remember the date incorrectly?

The door swung open, beams of mid-day sun bathing the room in silvery-white. And the purple tiefling in the technicolor dreamcoat sauntered in, followed by his socially awkward shadow. Caleb looked away, fondness and dread battled for dominance in his chest. Words caught in his throat as he saw them work the room, Mollymauk’s dazzling showman’s smile as he charmed the patrons of the Nestled Nook, Yasha trailing as the ‘World’s Worst Hype-woman’ as Nott once called her.

Oh, he had missed his friends. 

“Well, that’s a nice piece you got going on there!” Molly said, drifting over to Caleb’s corner. In his mental wanderings his fingers went through _A Song of Storm Winds_ , something he had composed long ago in memory of _Storm’s Herald_ Yasha and Mollymauk _Circus Man_ Tealeaf, and what could have been. “I’ve always had a good ear for music and you, my friend, are spectacular!”

Mollymauk, he knew, delighted in new experiences and was in the habit of liberally doling complements. He wondered, now where he hadn’t then, if Molly had met any bards before Caleb himself. Desmond might be one; Toya certainly had the potential to be.

“The name’s Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to my friends, and I think you would benefit from coming to see the circus tonight. We’ve got some spectacular musicians ourselves.”

“Well,” Caleb hedged, glancing at the aasimar that had drifted closer. He was really just delaying the inevitable, the second one of the pair of them outright asked he would crumple like wet paper.

“It’s well worth the five copper,” Molly wheedled, his tail tapping gently against his boot.

_“Do you think the show is worth watching?”_ He asked in Celestial, taking quiet delight in the widened eyes and loosening stance from Yasha, as well as the confused look from Mollymauk.

_“I–Well. It’s good. I like it at least. You should, you should come. If you have the coin to spare.”_ Yasha fumbled, as Molly flipped back and forth between them like a particularly interesting sparring match.

“Well,” he said switching back into Common, “With such a ringing endorsement, I can hardly say no. Tonight, you said? I’ll be sure to be there.”

Molly clapped his hands together, looking over at a lost-looking Yasha with excitement. His smile was just a bit more real for her, “Charm! Pure Charm! Well we’ll keep an eye out, Mister…?” He held out a hand.

“Caleb. Caleb Widogast.” He shook it.

“Mister Caleb, then.” He grinned and turned back to the tavern at large as he flitted away, Yasha waving awkwardly and following him once more. Molly raised his voice as he took a roundabout path to the exit, “Well! This show will certainly be one to remember! People will be talking about it in the taverns for years to come, and let me tell you, I wouldn’t want to be the guy that had to skip out on it! Five copper for an irreplaceable experience!” He left, leaving a few fliers as he went.

 

It was so good to see them again but he had to wonder: If the circus had come to Trostenwald, where were the rest of the Mighty Nein?

 

* * *

 

Naturally, by night’s end everything had gone to shit.

Oh, don't get him wrong, It started about the same, Caleb meeting up with, and being formally introduced to, Yasha; listening to Molly as he expanded on some of the people behind the acts. The show was still pretty amazing, but he was likely the only one who wasn't surprised when the old man in front turned into a zombie.

And that's when things got a little weird.

Molly sped in, crossing his scimitars in front of his face defensively, and there was almost an explosion from him, and the zombie and everything else in the area was covered in purple glitter.

Which, Mollymauk was really the second person in his acquaintance he’d expect to burst into glitter. Jester being the first.

His next crossbow bolt hit the flashy, undead target quickly, and Yasha’s badass swings and Molly’s whirlwind of death made short work of the zombies. And, just as they had before, that was when the crownsguard came in. Caleb was well aware that he was not terribly stealthy and was perfectly fine with cooperating with the Lawmaster. He said nothing as Yasha convinced the Crownsguard to leave the tent with her, the other guards either caught watching her leave or talking with Gustav.

It was only because he was half-expecting something that he noticed Molly change out of the corner of his eye. He shrunk down quickly becoming a rat of all things that scurried into the shadows and skittered under the tent. Huh. That was certainly something new.

One perk of being a bard, he’d found, was that people took you at your word when you pulled bullshit rumors out of your ass. Lawmaster Norda, as she was reintroduced to him, took heed from both him and the Archivist from Cobalt Soul when they separately confirmed that Kylre was a Nergalid, and Caleb advised them as best he could how to take him out. He bowed out of the ensuing fight, and he was not terribly surprised that at the end of it all, the Fletching and Moondrop Traveling Carnival of Curiosities was disbanded.

When Caleb left Trostenwald, he left without a human, a half-orc, a pair of tieflings, a goblin, and occasionally an aasimar. It was exactly as he came into this town with, but he felt all the poorer for it.

 

He wondered if he had made the right choice after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from a quote from _It's A Wonderful Life_ :
> 
> "You see, George, you've really had a wonderful life. Don't you see what a mistake it would be to throw it away?"


End file.
